


You Still Got Us

by whumphoarder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (not Peter), Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Injuries, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21713728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/pseuds/whumphoarder
Summary: Peter is having an off-day, which unfortunately coincides with an Avengers’ level mission. After watching the kid take a number of close calls, Tony has no choice but to bench Peter mid-fight.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 62
Kudos: 619
Collections: Iron Dad Secret Santa 2019





	You Still Got Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookaddict209](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookaddict209/gifts).



> This fic was written as part of Iron Dad Secret Santa 2019! Merry Christmas [garbotuesday](https://garbotuesday.tumblr.com/) and thanks for the prompt!! Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Thanks to [sallyidss](https://sallyidss.tumblr.com/) and [xxx-cat-xxx](https://xxx-cat-xxx.tumblr.com/) for beta reading <3

It was pretty clear that Peter was having an off-day.

Tony first noticed the signs during Steve’s pre-mission briefing that morning when the kid repeatedly kept sneaking glances at his phone. That seemed a bit out of character given Peter’s usual reverence toward the captain, but Tony excused it on the basis that a) it was a pretty straightforward mission, b) they’d been over the exact specifications of the building they were going to be infiltrating four times already, and c) Cap could be boring as hell. 

Peter seemed a bit preoccupied during their flight to the rural New Mexican town, but nothing too out of the ordinary. He nodded along to all of the team’s tactical discussions and appeared to understand his role in the plan. Later, when the kid tripped over his own feet while exiting the quinjet, Tony chalked it up to nerves.

But the final straw was when Peter misread Steve’s hand signal to hold his position as an order to strike. That mistake is what caused the kid to charge directly into a room full of six heavily-armed guards, completely by himself.

Cursing, Tony quickly scrambles out from behind the crate that’s been shielding him from view. The rest of the team is already mobilizing, thankfully used to improvisation. Natasha takes out one of the men with a roundhouse kick to the jaw while Steve and Clint converge on two more, quickly disarming them.

Another guard hurls a heavy metal table in Tony’s direction and takes off running toward the backdoor. Tony’s just started after him when he hears Sam’s urgent warning over the comms.

“Heads up, Spidey!”

Tony whirls around. Peter—who is staring down at his own wrist, frantically tapping the side of his webshooter mechanism—barely has time to look up before the fifth guard aims his gun directly at the kid’s head.

Instantly, Tony raises his hand and blasts the weapon right out of the guard's grip. The man gives a strangled cry of pain as he clutches his now burned hand to his chest. Taking advantage of that momentary distraction, Tony switches his repulsor setting to stun and fires again. This time he blows the guard clear across the room. Under his faceplate, Tony grins. 

(It’s the little things.)

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to bask in the satisfaction for long. A split-second later, a burst of energy slams into Tony’s chest plate. The force sends him hurtling backwards into the wall. Tony grunts sharply as pain explodes in his ribcage.

Peter races over to him. “Oh god, Mr. Stark, are you okay?” he blurts out, his tone borderline hysterical. “I’m so sorry! My webshooter jammed and I—”

“Get down!” Clint shouts.

Tony swears sharply, yanking Peter down with him just as another photon blast shoots over their heads. This time it’s so close that Tony swears he can see smoke wafting up from the top of Peter’s mask.

“Shit, kid…” Tony gasps out, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Peter assures him, gulping hard. He’s sitting on the ground now, looking more dazed than anything else. “I just, uh, didn’t see him there.”

Over the comms, Tony hears Steve report that the two remaining guards have just escaped through the southwest exit. Sam and Natasha immediately take off after them. Peter starts scrambling to his feet like he intends to follow, but Tony grabs his wrist.

“Oh hell no. Don’t even think about it,” he snaps. “You’re staying right here.”

“What? No!” Peter protests, trying fruitlessly to twist his arm out of his mentor’s iron grip. “I’m fine—I’m not even hurt!”

“No, but you _will be_ if you can’t get your head in the game,” Tony retorts, his gaze traveling around the room. Out of the team, Barton seems to be the only one left. The archer has an arrow trained threateningly at the pile of groaning men on the ground. 

“Yo, Legolas!” Tony hollers, causing the man to glance back at him. “You got this?”

Clint smirks. “Absolutely. These guys aren’t going anywhere,” he says, nodding his head toward the incapacitated guards. “Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

Tony rolls his eyes at the archer. "Yeah, well let me know if it gets to be difficult, difficult, lemon difficult..." he mutters. Still holding Peter’s wrist, he pulls the kid with him behind a stack of crates in the back corner of the warehouse. He retracts his helmet to look directly at Peter. “Alright, start talking,” he orders. “What is going on with you today?”

“Nothing,” Peter says tightly. Even in the mask, he won’t meet Tony’s gaze. “’m fine.”

“No, you’re not fine—you’re unfocused. You’re sloppy,” Tony argues. “Sloppy doesn’t fly in the big leagues, kid. Sloppy’s liable to get you killed.”

”Right, no, I know that. My webshooter is just clogged, but I can fix it!" Peter babbles. He resumes smacking the side of the mechanism. "I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I just—” With a final smack, the blockage is released and a string of web shoots out of the device, adhering Peter’s foot to the ground. He groans. “Aw, c’mon...”

Tony heaves out an exasperated sigh as the kid proceeds to clumsily spray his foot with web solvent. “Alright, that’s it, I’m benching you,” he declares. “Go back to the quinjet and wait for us to finish up.”

“Wh-What?” Peter stammers. He shakes his head frantically. “No, no I’m fine, Mr. Stark! I’ll focus! It was just—”

“Nope,” Tony cuts him off. “If you can’t take this mission seriously, then you shouldn’t be on it.” He’s starting to get heated now. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you constantly on your phone this morning. I don’t know what you think is so important on there, but you can crush candy and fire angry birds at green pigs another time.”

“I-I wasn’t,” Peter mumbles, still looking down.

"Then what were you doing?" Tony demands.

Peter bites his lower lip. His voice is very small when he answers, “Waiting for a text.”

“A _text?”_ Tony balks. He’s in genuine disbelief. “You’ve been _begging_ me and Cap to let you come along on the real missions for months now, and when we finally do, rather than following orders and keeping up, you spend your time, what? _Texting your girlfriend?”_

Peter’s hugging his arms around his middle now. He shakes his head slightly, his words coming out in barely a whisper. “No. May.”

Tony frowns in confusion. “Your aunt?”

Peter nods, his lower lip starting to quiver. “She… um, she found a lump a couple days ago? On her, uh…” He gestures vaguely in front of his chest.

Tony’s heart sinks with the realization. He exhales slowly. “Oh bud…”

Inhaling shakily, Peter starts to ramble. “Like, it might be nothing and I know I shouldn’t jump to conclusions or anything before the tests come back because who knows if it’s cancer or just like, fatty tissue or something? She said it could be that and it might be no big deal so I shouldn’t get worried yet, but… but like...” He draws in another shuddery inhale. “May’s mom _died_ of breast cancer when she was only like, _forty._ And I know that doesn’t mean that May has it or anything but it can run in families and so"—he sucks in a sharp breath—"I just, I mean...she’s all I have left, a-and…” 

Peter breaks off into a choked sob, and Tony sets a hand heavily on his shoulder.

“I just… I ca-can’t lose her too, Mr. Stark!”

“It’s okay,” Tony whispers, rubbing his hand up and down over Peter’s arm. “It’s alright, kid…”

Through his earpiece, he hears Nat report that she’s just taken down the final guard. Sam cracks a quick joke about Black Widow’s head-locking skills before Steve reports that he’s discovered the weapons distribution area. It all sounds pretty well under control.

Lowering his hand, Tony steps backwards and taps his earpiece with two fingers. “Hey, I need to take the kid back to the jet,” he says quietly. “I’ll be back in ten or so to finish up.”

“Roger that,” Steve replies. “Is he injured?”

Tony hesitates. Peter has tugged his mask halfway up over his face now and is scrubbing at his cheeks roughly with the back of his hand. “Not physically," he replies after a pause. "But he’s… he’s done for today.”

**X**

The walk back to the quinjet is brief and silent, the only sounds being Peter’s occasional sniffs. He’s clearly trying his best to pull it together, so Tony just lets him be.

Once back onboard, Peter immediately sinks down into his seat, removing the mask entirely. Tony grabs a bottle of water and a protein bar from their supplies and holds them out to him, but the kid just shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he whispers.

“Doubtful,” Tony replies. He sets the items down on Peter’s lap anyway.

Peter bends down to reach into his backpack, which is stowed under the seat, and fishes his phone out with trembling fingers. He scrolls through to check his notifications, and then sighs.

“Anything?” Tony asks.

Peter shakes his head. “Not yet.” He lowers the phone back down and looks up at his mentor. “I’m really sorry about the mission,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t have come today. That was really stupid and I just put everybody in danger. I was just so worried and I thought it might take my mind off it, but...” A stray tear runs down from the corner of his eye.

With a sigh, Tony presses the button to fully retract his armor. He then plops down on the closest seat, wincing as pain shoots through his now unsupported ribs. “Look. I’m not going to say what you did was okay, because it really wasn't"—Peter bites his lip and gives a solemn nod—“But at the same time, I'd be lying if I told you I’ve never done anything similar.” Tony pauses for a beat. “Emotions suck.”

At that, Peter huffs out a short, empty laugh. “Yeah. Agreed.” They sit there for a moment, before he asks hesitantly, “Uh, are you going to head back now?”

Originally, Tony was only intending to stay until the kid was situated and then get back to the warehouse to help confiscate the weapons, but the quiver in Peter’s lip is giving him pause. The team probably doesn’t _need him,_ per se—the hard part is basically over. 

Tony shrugs. “I think Cap’s got it handled. Plus”—he presses his hand gingerly to the bruise on his ribcage—“this could probably do with some ice. Do you think you could…?” He flaps his hand in the direction of the ship’s medical supplies.

Peter’s eyes widen. “Oh! Yeah, of course.” He hops up from his seat and retrieves the first aid kit. He locates a single-use ice pack which he snaps and shakes to activate the chemicals.

“Here,” Peter says, handing it over. “Uh, how bad is it?” he asks nervously. “Do you want some painkillers or anything?”

Tony takes the ice pack with a nod of thanks. He’s had enough broken ribs in his life to know that these are likely just bruised—at worst, cracked. The injury is only ranking about a three or four on the pain scale, which is far below his usual threshold for sitting things out. But if the kid needs something else to focus on, he figures a break won’t kill him. 

“Sure, if you’ve got any,” Tony says, keeping his tone casual. 

Peter locates and doses out three Tylenol for Tony, shaking them into his mentor’s palm before grabbing him a fresh bottle of water.

“Thanks,” Tony says. He swallows them down and then adjusts his position in his seat, considering for a moment the best way to keep Peter's mind occupied while they wait. “Hey," he begins, "have I ever told you about the time Clint tried to free climb the outside surface of a three-story building?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Oh, it’s a _doozy,”_ Tony remarks with a chuckle, settling deeper into his chair. “Alright, so it was Valentine’s day, which I only happen to remember because Cap insisted on making these heart-shaped pancakes for everyone, which set off the fire alarm...”

Over the next ten minutes, Tony recounts the story with as much embellishment and vivid imagery as he can muster. Peter gives the occasional single breathy laugh or nod as appropriate, which satisfies his mentor that his less-than-subtle distraction tactics are at least partially working.

“...luckily, Thor caught him before he hit the ground,” Tony concludes. “You know those viral videos where the firefighter catches the baby being dropped out of an apartment window? Same concept, except the firefighter was an alien god and the baby was a grown man in cargo shorts. Still screamed about the same amount though.”

With a short laugh, Peter checks his phone once more. He then sighs and shakes his head slightly before setting the device back facedown on his thigh. Tony takes that as his cue to continue.

“...Speaking of screaming, have you heard the one about how he once posed as a camel trainer in Australia, and led a group of—” 

Just then, Peter’s phone buzzes. 

Eyes going wide, his hand shoots out for the device so fast that his fumbling fingers send it clattering to the floor. He drops to his knees and picks it up, quickly turning it over to see the text.

For a few seconds, Peter just stares at the message, unblinking, and Tony waits for a response with bated breath. 

Then suddenly, Tony’s watching tears well up in the kid’s eyes. His own heart drops to his stomach and all at once it's 1991 again and Jarvis is knocking on his bedroom door, informing him that a state trooper is here, that something terrible has occurred, that his parents are—

A choked sob from Peter knocks Tony back to the present. The kid is still knelt on the floor, pressing a fist to his lips, shoulders shaking from the effort of keeping quiet.

“N-Negative,” Peter manages to say through the tears. “The bi-biopsy was... it was negative. No cancer.”

Ignoring the protests from his ribs, Tony slides out of his own seat to join him on the floor. He pulls the boy in to his chest for a tight hug. “It’s okay, Pete,” he says quietly. “It’s okay. I got you.”

Peter’s sobs are wracking his entire frame, but Tony only holds him tighter as he cries.

“It’s alright, kid,” Tony breathes, rubbing one hand up and down Peter’s back. “You still got her. You still got us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated <3  
> Come and hang out on tumblr if you'd like! My url is [whumphoarder](https://whumphoarder.tumblr.com/)


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